


don't wake up, wake up

by WattStalf



Series: Nonconvember 2020 [15]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Face-Sitting, Necrophilia, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:01:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27271597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WattStalf/pseuds/WattStalf
Summary: Cats play with their kills.
Relationships: Kaito | Kite/Neferpitou (Hunter X Hunter)
Series: Nonconvember 2020 [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982671
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	don't wake up, wake up

**Author's Note:**

> they/them pitou

Neferpitou can’t get enough of this man, of this human. The fight was so brief but so perfect, and they don’t want to let him go, want to do everything that they can to recapture that bliss. But he is dead now, and he can’t get back up on his own. They can recreate some things, but things always feel hollow, almost bittersweet. That fight is never something that they are going to get back, but at the very least, they can be content that they have him.

They love him, in their own way, and his body still serves some purposes. Training, for the most part, and they can use him to imitate the movements he made when he was alive, but he will never be as unpredictable as he was when he was alive. That is what they miss about him, about what they knew in that brief time that the two of them were together.

Even so, they have him now, in whatever state he may be in, and they can make do with that. They can get entertainment from watching him fight the soldiers, and they can fight him again and again, even if reliving that moment just feels hollow. All of that is all well and good, but their favorite purpose that they have for the man is an idea that comes to them almost like a distant memory. They are not sure why they know to do this, why they think of it at all, but it feels familiar anyway, and they do not resist their instincts.

The man is cold and motionless at first, laying on the ground with a vacant stare in his eyes, waiting for his master to use him. They admire him for some time like this, running ahead along his frigid skin, only preserved because they have worked hard to keep him in this state. He can be as lifelike that they want, within reason, but right now, they leave him dead on the ground, because he isn’t alive, and they don’t need to try and take comfort in that lie.

Really, they have known him dead more than they have known him alive. Doing this while he is dead, while he really is a corpse, just feels right to them, for reasons that go deeper than they are capable of understanding. There is no puppetry as they mount his face, clothes discarded as soon as they entered the room where his body has been resting, waiting for its next use.

He is so cold beneath them, and the sensation sends a chill through their body, making them gasp out. Without any fabric to separate them from him, it is the most direct content anyone has ever had with them, and they aren’t sure how they are supposed to feel about it, but the heat pooling in the pit of their stomach, and between their legs, certainly indicates that they like it. Yes, this is exactly what their instincts are pulling them to do.

As soon as they start grinding down against his face, they understand that. The friction is clumsy and awkward, and there is a part of them that knows this is not quite how it is supposed to go, but that same part of them understands that things are like this because he is dead. That same part of them knows that they could use their ability to make him move the way they would need him to, in order to things right, but just for a little while, even if it is just for this first time, they want to do things like this, with the man properly dead beneath them.

It is like nothing they have ever felt before, and the more they grind against him, the more frenzied they become, their entire body feeling as if it is on fire. Each breath comes out as a heavy gasp, and they tremble, and despite the strangeness of the sensation, despite knowing it is like nothing they have ever felt before, there is still something familiar about it, coming to them the same way the urge to do this did in the first place.

This man is all theirs, all theirs to use however they want. They think about that fight again, about how he looked when he had life in his eyes, how beautiful and graceful and delicate and altogether pathetic he was, and how they might do things differently, if they were really able to bring him back. If only they could fix him, and if only they could have experienced this while he was still alive. Instead, they are going to get familiar with how it feels when he is dead, before they even think about using their control over him.

They love him, in their own way, but love is not something they have actually spent a lot of time thinking about. This fascination has become all-consuming, leading them to this point, rutting against his face and crying out, lost in that frenzy, in lust that they have not yet come to understand, but they will likely never realize just how much they love this man.

Their whole body feels like it seizes up at once, and they are wracked with spasms, gasping and moaning, confused and almost afraid of this feeling because of how involuntary it is, how it feels like absolute surrender. But through it all, there is pleasure, and that pleasure is so overwhelming that they are not able to resist it, and it makes it seem as if the surrender is completely worth it. And all the while, the man rests beneath them, still and cold and dead, completely unaware of the way that his face is used, completely unaware of the relationship that he now has with his murderer.

Slowly, they will warm up to the idea of using his body to make it better, controlling him so that they can feel that way over and over again, but this first time is special. This first time, they got to understand what it is like to be with him while he is truly dead.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested in my writing updates, please follow my fanfiction twitter @WattStalf  
> 


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